


Let Thy Blue Be Royal

by cerulean_sin (am_bellanoire)



Series: Kiss the Girl (Uma-Centric F/F) [2]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Movie: Descendants 2, Pre-Descendants (2015)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 08:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20991884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/am_bellanoire/pseuds/cerulean_sin
Summary: “You're one of Mal's,” Uma says, wincing at the sharp sting in her shoulder, the menacing growl in her mind as the words are uttered.Mine. Not Mal's, it snarls. She tries to ignore it, terrified by the possessive sentiment.The girl's eyes harden, an impressive feat given how unfocused they are, how close to losing consciousness she is. But she nods curtly, biting back a groan. It is clear she believes Uma is here to finish her off, it's an expected assumption. The way of the Isle. Kill or be killed.“Your name?” The sea witch asks, shuffling closer, tentatively as if approaching a feral animal. She doesn't want to cause the girl anymore stress.“Evie. Daughter of the Evil Queen.”Evie. The name is like a cooling salve on seared flesh and Uma wants to hear it again. So she repeats it to herself. Once more, and then again.





	Let Thy Blue Be Royal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lollypop21](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lollypop21/gifts).

When Uma is very young, she assumes the mark is a welt. Something left over from the most recent thrashing she'd taken from her mother's tentacles. But when the swelling doesn't go down a few hours later, or the next day, she decides it's a scar. At least it's pretty, she settles on. Not jagged or very raised, not an eye sore. There's a strange delicacy in the curving and looping mark, nothing like any scar she had ever seen. But it's hers, settled right at the juncture between her collarbone and left shoulder. Easy to cover up if she needs to, but it itches annoyingly whenever she does. 

When Uma learns to read, she realizes her scar forms a letter. An 'E'. By now she has many more to compare it to and it's different. Besides its unique shape, there's a sentience about it that her other 'battle wounds' lack. It heats and cools at random. Sometimes it aches, sometimes it stings. Sometimes it feels really nice. It's easy to ignore sometimes, and sometimes it isn't. Particularly whenever her paths so happen to cross with the purple haired fae she used to hang out with and her ragtag group of cronies. She's learned to give them their distance, after all, they are enemies now and without a crew of her own, it would be as foolish to engage with them as it would be to disturb her mother when she's watching her idiotic soap operas on a Sunday. But once while slipping into an alleyway, shrouded in the shadows cast by dilapidated buildings, she catches a glimpse of blue hair to Mal's right and her scar tingles so intensely she has to clap a hand over mouth to stifle a gasp. It could have been her imagination, but she swears she sees the blue head turn in her direction. But they keep moving and Uma waits. 

When Uma has her crew, she decides now is the time to strike. Mal has gotten too big for her wings, seizing up territory left and right. She and her gang have become top tier villains on the Isle and Uma cannot allow her turf to be plundered. She is captain and her crew depends on her. They need a leader. They need a sea witch, not _Shrimpy_. And so they will fight for what is theirs. 

When the battle begins, Uma is in her element. With a cutlass in each hand, Harry wielding both sword and hook, Gil in all his robust, muscular glory flanking her sides, and the rest of her pirates with their own particular brand of ruthless aggression at her back, she feels invincible. “Defend,” she commands. And they do. With tooth, nail, and blade. They have the upper hand and then Uma is distracted by a crippling pain at her left shoulder and the sound of a choked scream. Her attention is torn from the fight and pulled to the sight of a blue haired girl faltering, stumbling backward from Desiree's slashing sword, crimson spilling. Harry yanks her back into the fray with a gruff rebuke and she reluctantly turns away from the scene, an unseen force clouding her vision, painting it red with blood lust and retribution. 

Mal and her gang scatter. They have won. 

When the crew celebrates at the chip shop, guzzling down tankards of ale and stronger stuff, shouts of truimph and revelry filling the air, Uma rubs at the old scar. It burns. Something needles at the back of her mind, a desperate and pleading something. Her hands clench into fists, her legs twitch. She feels out of sorts, jumpy. Almost like she is coming down with a fever. She can't shake the phantom fingers pulling at her, luring her. She needs to get out of here. She needs to go to _something_.

Her feet stagger aimlessly through the stale and stinking alley, leading her farther from the chip shop and the safety in the numbers her crew provides. But she doesn't care. She lets whatever pulling her hold the reins, the scar on her shoulder throbbing with each step she takes. Until finally, she sees the silhouette of a figure slumped against a crumbling brick wall. Blue hair catches in dim light and Uma's breath stutters in her lungs. She approaches, slowly, cautiously, glancing right and then left, eyes narrowed seeking out a trap. When nothing springs, she crosses the last bit of distance and fully takes in the sight before her. 

The girl is hurt badly, rendered near delirious from loss of blood, plaintive whimpers spilling from her lips that she tries to hold back but can't. Uma's chest tightens as she hesitantly extends a hand to brush back tresses of sapphire, revealing a pale, sweat dampened face. Regal features smudged with grime and deep set chestnut eyes logged with water that sheer willpower alone keeps from leaking. 

“You're one of Mal's,” Uma says, wincing at the sharp sting in her shoulder, the menacing growl in her mind as the words are uttered. _Mine. Not Mal's_, it snarls. She tries to ignore it, terrified by the possessive sentiment. 

The girl's eyes harden, an impressive feat given how unfocused they are, how close to losing consciousness she is. But she nods curtly, biting back a groan. It is clear she believes Uma is here to finish her off, it's an expected assumption. The way of the Isle. Kill or be killed. 

“Your name?” The sea witch asks, shuffling closer, tentatively as if approaching a feral animal. She doesn't want to cause the girl anymore stress. 

“Evie. Daughter of the Evil Queen.”

Evie. The name is like a cooling salve on seared flesh and Uma wants to hear it again. So she repeats it to herself. Once more, and then again. 

Before she even realizes what she is doing, Uma tears the sleeve of her shirt. With well practiced fingers that still tremble for some reason, she fashions a tourniquet out of the tattered fabric, staunching the flow of blood. It isn't much but it will have to do. Evie's bleary gaze meets hers and there is gratitude in it. And then it shifts to Uma's bared arm and shoulder and the blue haired girl goes rigid. A hesitant hand extends and brushes against the raised letter 'E' branded above her collarbone and Uma bites her lip to restrain a breathy moan. It's as if a current of electricity has passed through her entire body from the reluctant touch alone. It feels _good_, far too good, and it shocks her to her core. She needs distance even though every muscle, every cell that makes up who she is urges her closer. She fights, fights the strange sensation and steps back.

“I think you'll live.” 

Parting words, but she doesn't leave. She stays, concealed in the shadows, remaining sentinel until she hears Mal's voice calling out to her fallen friend. 

When Uma does her research it is by candlelight in the captain's quarters of her ship. The old tome is falling apart at the spine, the paper sickly yellow and practically crumbles to dust with each page she turns. The more she reads, the faster her heart beats against her rib cage. Her eyes lose their focus, reducing the words to blurred lines and she rubs absentmindedly at the scar on her shoulder. Except now she knows the truth. It isn't a scar at all. It's something far worse. Something that should be impossible on an island devoid of magic. She is afraid. 

“What's a soul mate?” Uma asks her mother in a rare display of vulnerability. It's the wee hours of the morning before the chip shop is due to open so she doesn't have to worry about being overheard. Still, her voice is hushed. Saying the word louder than a whisper is much too much. 

Ursula regards her daughter with an unreadable expression for a moment, her tentacles coiling ominously beneath her corpulent body. Uma assumes she's about to strike and braces for an impact that never comes. Her brows furrow, confusion and trepidation chasing each other across her face. After what seems like an eternity, Ursula answers her question, her tone cryptic. 

“A death sentence.” 

When Mal and her gang gets a bid to Auradon, Uma accepts her mother's words to be fact. She is dying. And it hurts. It hurts worse than anything she's ever felt. She cannot umderstand how she can be caught in the throes of such agony and not bleed. Her shoulder feels as if someone has poured acid onto it, her flesh rotting away. She wants to escape the pain but there is nowhere to go. She curls herself into a ball on the bed in her quarters, trying to find the rhythm of the waves beneath the ship. But it no longer soothes. All she can think about is the pain, all she can see playing on a loop in her mind is Evie settling herself in the backseat of that limousine, nestled between Mal, Jay, and Carlos to disappear forever beyond the barrier that separates Audradon and the Isle of the Lost. Lost, she feels lost. Harry finds her hours later and wraps his arms around her, holding her so tightly she can hardly breathe. But it isn't enough. For the first time in a long time, she cries. Bitter tears and broken sobs. Her first mate only holds her tighter. 

It's all over the Isle, like the buzz of a thousand mosquitoes that Mal has returned, and it sets Uma on edge. When Harry confirms that he's had a run in with her at the Tremaine's salon, she waves the news away as if swatting a fly. The fae poses no threat, she couldn't have her territory back even if she tried. Not with the following Uma has garnered in her absence. Once she realizes that, she will go skipping back into the Auradon sunshine. The little traitor. Uma hopes she boils like a lobster in all that sun. 

And then the old mark on her shoulder flares to life. Somehow, someway, Evie is here too. When Gil comes running to her, out of breath, hazel eyes dancing with glee, Uma doesn't even wait for him to finish his sentence. Evie is here. And so is the King. The gears in her head immediately crank into motion. “Bring him to me,” she directs to Harry, whose lips part in a wicked grin that is all sharp teeth. 

When Mal comes to the chip shop for hers, Uma's eyes linger on the swinging doors as if waiting for a flash of blue even though she told the dragon to come alone. Biting words are exchanged and Uma plays her role convincingly. She baits then parries as if her tongue is a sword. But the only thing on the forefront of her mind is getting to Evie. They are evenly matched in strength, neither giving an inch as their grips tighten and the air around them snaps and crackles. Mal's eyes flash green and Uma feels her arm giving. The dirty cheat. But the sea witch has an ace up her sleeve. She giggles wickedly as she demands Fairy Godmother's wand upon victory, knowing full well it would never perform on this desolate wasteland. It is enough to startle a loss out of her nemesis and the crowd of patrons behind her cheers. Come noon tomorrow, Evie will be hers. 

When Uma sends Harry away lest he harm the King, she regards Auradon's reigning monarch with a critical eye. He is nothing but a boy. She is disappointed. So many on the Isle put their faith in him, waiting for their chance. But up close, he seems just as insignificant as the children of the villains his father exiled. “You took something from me that wasn't yours to take,” she snarls when he asks yet again why she is doing this. He has the gall to look confused. She should toss him overboard for the hell of it. The look on Mal's face would be priceless. 

She doesn't need Gil's giddy announcement to know when Mal stalks toward the ship. The mark on her shoulder starts to throb in earnest like a drum, beating in time to the cadence of her heart. Her eyes immediately seek out her quarry and Evie meets her gaze full on, stare intense and unflinching. Uma's teeth snap together in a threat when Mal steps into her line of vision, the wand clutched in her hand. It isn't real. Uma knows this at once. Magic is in her blood and while none exists on the Isle, she knows what Mal offers is naught but artifice. She snatches the implement from a pale grasp and snaps it in two over her knee with a sneer. 

The broken wand lays forgotten on the deck and Uma extends a hand towards the head of blue hair behind Mal. Her fingers ache to hold, they are almost close enough to touch. Almost. But her glare never wavers from outraged green. She jerks her head in the direction of the King's precarious position at the plank, Harry poised and ready to cast him to the starving sharks. 

“Mine for yours.”

The demand has the desired affect.

“Over my dead body.”

What a satisfying thought. 

Swords are drawn and Uma feeds off of the chaotic energy, the heat of battle. She is prepared to gut her way through any and all to get to Evie. Possession floods her veins, fueled by adrenaline. Nothing can keep her from what is hers. Not again. Not after she has known the pain of loss. She will die first before she'll let it happen, but not before dragging Mal down to the fathoms below right along with her if need be. 

_“No.”_

Evie's sharp voice rings out over the sound of metal on metal and all eyes turn to her, the tension in the air heavy and dire as blades are stayed. 

“I _am_ hers. And she's mine.” The princess steps around Mal and now she stands before Uma and places a hand against the flat of the cutlass, “That day in the alley. You saved my life and I saw your mark.”

In a fluid motion, she peels off her jacket and pulls at the hem of her shirt. And there, right above the curve of her hip is the letter 'U', bold and brazen, standing out against ivory skin, like a statement piece. Uma lowers her sword, the hilt falling loosely from her hand. She cannot tear her eyes away. She can't move. She can't think. She can't speak. 

“_This_ is your way out, Uma,” Evie's eyes plead and she takes a step closer, stealing oxygen from the pirate's lungs, “Soul mates can't be separated. By Auradon law.”

Uma's head spins and her chest aches and she feels like she's drowning. Everything fades to gray at the edges of her vision. Everything disappears. All she can see is Evie. All she can feel is the pull between them and their matching marks, like a magnet and she can feel the fight ebbing away, sinking like a wounded ship. The force is strong and it is alive, a sentient thing that breathes. 

_“Come with me_,” it calls with the thrall of a siren's song and then it's Evie's voice saying the words, “Come with me. Come back with me.” 

Yes. Every fiber of her being propels her forward. Uma is helpless but to surrender to the unseen power. Yes. To Auradon. To Evie. She needs this. She wants this. She - “I can't,” she growls between clenched teeth, her face tightening with the wave of pain that batters her shoulder at the refusal. But she remains resolute as she turns to face her crew. “I _can't_. Not without them.” 

When Uma takes her first steps into Auradon it's with her pirates at her back and Evie's hand in hers, the mark on her shoulder thrumming content, its warmth only rivaled by a ray of sunlight that kisses her mahogany cheek for the very first time.

**Author's Note:**

> I always wanted to try my hand at a Soulmate!AU so I went ahead and tried. Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoyed this! Feedback would be much appreciated.


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